And life goes on
by Clarice Waters
Summary: Life of movieverse alternate reality Rogue as recorded in her journal. Not really any major plot, just 'down time', you know, between life threatening events. Eventually ScottRogue,but the fics not all about it. M for swearing and issues in later chapters
1. Month 1, Week 1

Monday, 5th, March - 2007

It's about to get complicated:

Currently Listening: 'Prelude 3.0' By Slipknot

Mkay, so the Professor has asked everyone on the junior X-team to keep a diary for the next five months. At the end of this five month period we are to hand in said journals for both the Professor and Mr. Summers to read,discuss and psycho-analyse. The conclusions drawn from these diaries of our psychological state will be a very large deciding factor on who will be joining the official team and who will not. You know, it's kind of the Professor's way of getting inside our heads without the intrusion of actually getting _inside_ our heads. Pretty much the only conditions are that we have to write two entries a week minimum and that entries have to consist of something a tad longer and a tad deeper than 'Hung out in the pool during my free period, it was kewl.' It can be written or typed, whatever you want just as long as it's done.

I realise that the other students will be handing in half journals. They'll do what's asked of them of course but what they hand in will be half truths. Details changed or omitted for the sake of privacy, of not getting others into trouble, of keeping things not meant to be known by the teachers exactly that. Frankly, to hell with that. This is my diary and I'll write whatever I bloody well want. I'm not changing a damn thing. That's why once I hand this in things are going to get complicated. The types of things that are written in diaries are not meant to be read by others because what people write in diaries, amongst other things, is comprised of raw, un-adulterated opinion. And that isn't something that should be given out lightly.

On a different note, I think it would probably be safer for everyone concerned, no not just everyone concerned, everyone in the mansion, if I made an earnest effort at this. God knows we don't need a half crazed, half depressed me running around the mansion touching everyone. Should something psychological go wrong with me it's best it's caught early. Seriously, I can't believe I'm actually in the position to write that sentence.

So here it is, or will be. One hundred percent Rogue ramble. I think maybe before I hand this in at the end of the five month period I should sticky tape two tablets of aspirin to every twentieth page or something. I'm pretty sure about five pages in it's all going to look like 'blah, blah, fucking, blah, blah, fucking, blah, blah, bitch'. I apologies in advance for the swearing. You can blame Logan for that. Though in his defense he is always telling me to watch my mouth. He's just usually swearing like a sailor when he does it : )

Peace out, Sugahs.

Friday, 9th, March - 2007

"Sometimes I feel so worthless, sometimes I feel discarded. I wish that I was good enough, then I'd know that I am not alone." - In the shadow of the Valley of death by Marilyn Manson.  


Currently Listening: 'Into Dust' by Mazzy Star

As the title would suggest, yes, I am having an Emo moment.

Logan returned today, and while I'm happier than you could possibly know to have him back safe and sound, It also brings forward in me the things I feel when he leaves. Feelings of being less than. That I'm not nearly as important to him as he would have me believe. That I'm not important enough for him to stay in one place.  
Everyone needs intimacy. Physical, psychological, emotional. They get these from different people through different means; the quick, reassuring smile of a parent, a deep and meaningful conversation with a friend, the slow sensual touch of a lover. Perhaps those not so needful of the two latter find more solace in the former, I don't know. But I do know that, as little as Logan may want to acknowledge it, he too desires psychological and emotional intimacy. Though not as much as others. He will during those periods turn his bike around, trek miles back to the school and come to the only person from whom he can get it.

Me.

I am the sister, I am the daughter, the doe-eyed child in need of protection and through me he touches the realm of the human, and thus, the realm of emotion. Filling himself up with all the terrible beauty of the love of a father for his daughter, the concern of a brother for his sister, the possessive ownership of the protector for his protectee. (No it's not a word, but It suits my purpose) We talk and hang out, he gives me extra training in the danger room, we go for walks in the forest. Then, sated, he leaves. Not to return until his heart is again so hollow as not to be ignored.  
Everybody thinks I have a crush on him. You know, hero worship and all that. It would be, under normal circumstances, the natural psychological reaction to what he did for me. But these are not normal circumstances. Crushes are based on fantasy and the fact of the matter is that I have an awful lot of reality-Logan in my head. The initial idealised, fantasy version of Logan I had was destroyed the night I stood touching his face, adamantium claws buried in my chest. When I took his power I took a part of him and there is shit in here you don't even need to contemplate. I do love Logan, I've seen the good, the bad and the ugly of Logan and It doesn't make me feel any less for him, I'm just not in love with him.

Anyway.

So he comes, stays a while and I give him what he needs. He hugs me at the schools large, wooden front doors before he leaves and I feel like a whore. The untouchable whore. Imagine that.  
But I'll keep hugging, I'll keep my mouth shut and give him what he comes for and I'll smile while doing it. I'll do it because I love him, I'll do it because he saved me in more ways than one the day he allowed me to climb into his passenger seat. I'll continue to do it because he doesn't fear me, doesn't fear my skin. Even in this place, inhabited with wall to wall mutants, I am mutated. Even here it is never a matter of who I am, But what I am. I'll keep doing it because he cares enough, and isn't afraid, to touch me. The light graze of his fingers on my cheek in comfort, the graze of a thumb against my wrist simply because he knows that no one else will brave it and he doesn't want it to be that way for me.

I don't hate him. Reading back over this it sounds as If I hate him, at least a little. But I don't. I just feel used sometimes. Even though I know that that's not the case. I guess I just feel discarded. Whatever. I'm going to bed.

Goodnight.


	2. Month 1, Week 2

Tuesday, 13th, March - 2007

Animal:  


Currently Listening: 'Make me Bad' by KoRn (God this song is hot)

'run, desire, run  
a sexual being  
run him like a blade  
to and through the heart, no conscience  
one motive: cater to the hollow

screaming feed me here  
fill me up again  
temporarily pacify this hunger that's so cruel

go libido throw  
dominoes of indiscretions down  
falling all around in cycles, in circles  
constantly consuming, conquering, devour.

'cause its time to bring the fire down  
throttle all this indiscretion  
long enough to edify  
and permanently fill this hollow

screaming feed me here  
fill me up again  
temporarily pacifying  
feed me here  
fill me up again  
temporarily pacifying'  
-- "the hollow," by A Perfect Circle

Today I got a taste of what it might be like to have Logans sex drive. I was on my way to the danger room girls locker room after dinner to get a necklace I'd left in my locker. And as I passed the door to the observation room, so called because it looks into the danger room, I came across the most amazing scent. I couldn't possibly say what it was made of but it was... there are just no words for what it was. The word beautiful doesn't fit, It wasn't beautiful per se. But It was obsessive. It made me obsessive. As long as I could smell it I wanted it, I wanted it to be all over me, all around me. Then all at once everything else was forgotten and I had to follow it to it's source, finding it was all that mattered. And, If I'm going to be completely honest, It got me hot. This scent made me hornier than I've ever been in my life, and that's a considerable amount. I could feel my skin grow warmer and flush red as the scent got stronger, I could feel that kind of pulling tingle you get in the place where you need to be filled and I could tell just by my scent that I was wet. It didn't even cross my mind to wonder how this scent, whatever it was, could gain such control over my body, all that mattered was finding it. So I enter the observation room and am hit with a stronger dose. And am confronted with it's source.

Mr. Summers. He was, by the looks of it, up to danger level 14 and showing it who's boss. All I could do was watch, fascinated. No, not fascinated, It was more than fascination. Watching him blast and beat the crap out of everything that came at him, watching him exert his dominance and mastery over everything that dared go up against him, it was animalistic. I'd never seen him fight like this, he was fighting like the Wolverine. He was wild. It was hot. And I wanted him. Oh God did I want him. I found myself, hand on the handle of the door that lead into the danger room, without even realising I had left the observation room, completely ready and willing to hand myself over to him. I wanted him to take me and possess me and do me right there on the danger room floor.

I spent the next half an hour taking a cold shower. I don't know what it does for guys but it didn't do a damn thing for me.

In retrospect I think one ingredient of his scent, and it's effect on me, was that he was working off sexual frustration. At least It felt like that's what he was doing. But that doesn't make sense. No woman would refuse Mr. Summers, ask any senior girl here and they'd tell you the same. Actually ask a few of the senior boys as well and they might say it too, but we'll leave them to discover their respective closets in their own time. Back to the point. He's with Dr. Grey and I know some couples don't have a rich sex life but, really, It's Mr. Summers! There is not a straight woman, gay man or bi-sexual alive that would turn him down. So what's up with the sex frustration work-out?

Anyway.

Who can I go to for help about this? I'm reluctant about going to Logan because the other person involved is Mr. Summers. I can't go to Dr.Grey because it was her Fiance that I wanted to dominate me on the danger room floor. I don't really have any teachers here that I kinda hold at mom status so I guess I'll go to the Professor and beg him not to involve Dr. Grey. Hmmm, on second thoughts I'll tell Logan about this as well, something in me tells me this is Wolverine related. So I'll tell Logan and the Prof. Alright. I have a plan. It's my plan, I planned it.

Thank god Mr.Summers doesn't have enhanced senses like Logan. Because he would have smelled me watching him and if he could smell my presence then he could smell my state and I do not need the embarrassment.

Procrastinating and freaking out,

Rogue.

Wednesday, 14th, March - 2007

The animal in me:  


Currently Listening: 'Nymphetamine' By Cradle of Filth

Logan knew. Why am I surprised, of course he knew. He knows everything about me, right down to what brand of tampons I use, for gods sake. I was freaking out by the time I told Logan. I mean, I've never felt anything so strong, so all encompassing. I had almost no control over myself! And I hate not being in control of my body. I hate it. I can't abide even the thought of it. (So I have control issues, I think I'm entitled, I guess you'll find out why in later entries.) Apparently he could smell me and my state from his bedroom. Ew. But when I got to his room he let me pace and babble and freak out for a little while until I finally plonked myself on his bed on the verge of tears and all but squealed "what's wrong with me?!?!". Sometimes I've just gotta get it out, you know? And he didn't tell me the other day because he didn't know how to approach the subject. So that's why he didn't tell me straight away. But once I was there and had calmed down he filled me in.

I'm in heat.

Oh, no, no. I'm quite fucking serious. Apparently my subconscious has decided that I'm physically old enough to breed and that Spring is apparently my season. He gave me the short answer in his room but saved the long answer for when we were in the Professors office. You know, kill two birds with one stone. But god was it embarrassing. Can you imagine that? Both my father equivalents's sitting down and having a good old chat about my breeding cycle. Fun!  
So heres the deal. Like any other hot blooded southern belle I'm still going to like sex all year 'round. It's just that in Spring my sex drive will peak. Which explains why I've been so god damn horny the last three days. What it doesn't explain, though, is why I nearly threw myself at Scott. Maybe It really was something in his scent. Maybe I was picking up on his pheromones. Isn't that what they're called? Whatever.

According to Logan my appetite for everything will go haywire. Food will become as important to me as sex will, you know, subconsciously gathering more energy for the other, ahem, 'activities' my primal nature is telling me to partake in. I'll end up eating weird combinations, focusing on protein first, the high fat foods next, then vegetables and fruit, finally bread. Which I guess would explain the weirdo sandwiches I've been concocting for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the last three days as well. And since I will not be indulging in this particular urge, and you should have seen the face and heard the voice used when Logan said that, I will find myself exercising a lot more, a subconscious effort to 'take the edge off', he said. So I'll find myself in the gym more, in the danger room more, jogging a lot more.

Sigh. I don't know how I'm going to handle this. I think right about now Logan is thankful as hell that my skin control is still MIA because after only three days of this I'm just about ready to go out and have myself a one night stand or three.

Sexually frustrated,  
Rogue.


	3. Month 1, Week 3

Tuesday, 20th, March - 2007

Heart Shaped Glasses:

Currently Listening: 'Heart Shaped Glasses' by Marilyn Manson

I awoke very early this morning to the feeling of being shaken. I knew before I was even half awake that it was Logan. I thought maybe we were being attacked again. Strangely enough, In the split second I thought that, I was nowhere near as scared as I was the first time it happened. Perhaps I'm a little more sure of myself and my abilities now. Or maybe I just didn't think we were being attacked long enough for the full feeling of fear to settle in. I don't know. But Logan came in, woke me up whispering something along the lines of, "kid, drag your ass to my room for a minute" or "get your ass to my room, I need to talk to you" or something to that effect, I can't remember. I was still quite sleepy.

So I follow behind him to his room and who should I see there? None other than Dr. Grey herself. I walked straight past her as if it were my room (It pretty much is, simply for the fact that It's Logans) sat myself on his bed (I didn't smell sex in the room or on either of them so I knew it was safe) and wrapped myself in his blanket. She didn't like that much, I could smell her displeasure. I also didn't give a shit. Because I'd figured out what was happening the second I'd seen her and if I was right, and what do you know, I was, then Mr. Summers was in massive amounts of emotional pain and that doesn't sit well with me.

For someone with Logan in their head I'm quite protective of Mr. Summers. I thinks it's because of these little moments we have. Sometimes I'll come across him when he's alone and he'll be looking at a painting, and I'll just know that he's wondering what it must look like without the tint of red. Some of those times he'll turn and notice me and instead of looking embarrassed as he once did he'll look at my gloves then back up to me and give me this knowing smile that kinda sais 'You know?'. And I'll nod my head, look down at my gloves and then up to his glasses and send him back a knowing smile that sais 'Yeah, I know.' Sometimes he'll catch me staring at the entwined hands of a couple and we'd have our little exchange only the roles are reversed. We rarely talk, we're rarely in the same room with the other outside of class, and we don't really know each other. The look is what we have, and a lot of the time that's all I need. It makes me feel that someone understands. And while it's nice that people empathise, sometimes you just need someone to understand. _Really_ understand. I care about him so much.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Logan and Ego M.D. So I'm wrapped up in Logans blanket watching while he gets his shit together and finally I break the silence,

"Well I knew something had to be done, you could take chunks off of the sexual tension with a fucking chainsaw, but don't you think this is a little drastic?"

To this all Logan sais is "Watch your fucking mouth, M-Rogue." Ever the keeper of my virtue, vocabulary and otherwise. I laughed and poked my tongue out at him.

I glance over at the Dr. to see her with considerable less bravado than when I walked in and very confused at how completely unphased I was by all this. I could tell how happy she was to get to shove in my face that she had gotten her hands on the man that I was supposedly in love with, and how confused and disappointed she was at the fact that It wasn't playing out that way.

"Does Mr. Summers know?" I ask her. She looked a little indignant at that. As if to say 'of course he knows, I wouldn't just leave without telling him!' I just looked at her as if to say 'save it woman, I ain't giving you the benefit of any doubt'. What she verbalised was,

"Yes, he knows." And I was thankful for Mr.Summers sake that she didn't just leave him with a 'Dear John' letter.

Logan was done packing by then so I walked him to the front doors. Dr. Grey was there too of course but I wasn't really paying all that much attention to her.

"You gonna be ok, Stripes?" He asks, fastening his tags round my neck.

Unclasping the chain with my Nannas ring from around my neck and fastening it around his I answered,

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll find something to fill up my training time with you. Homework, and some music and book store retail therapy." I smile at him reassuringly. "And I'll see if I could pick up some extra one on one training with Chou". (Pronounced 'Shou', another new self-defense instructor, Jubes uncle, non-mutant. I don't know how I keep up sometimes.)

"How bout less retail therapy and more one on one with Chou" he said, gruff as ever even as he tucked my grandmothers ring under his shirt.

I rolled my eyes and jokingly asked, "Where's the fun in that?" He just smirked. Dr. Grey was getting antsy at that point so I grudgingly cut our moment short.

"Take care of yourself big brother", I said pulling him in for a hug. I always get a little emotional when he leaves.

It was a little strange having Dr. Grey there for our leaving ritual. (the swapping of the necklaces) But I know why he arranged it so she was. She has a little bit of an ego. She was jealous of the love he feels for me, and of the attention he pays to me and he was perfectly aware that she was feeling smug about 'stealing him away from me' and using it to make herself feel better. He was knocking her off her high horse, as it were. He wanted to show her somehow that even though she has him as a lover, I will always be his number one girl. And that that will never change.

Logan took Dr. Greys luggage to the car (Logan? A bellhop? Honestly, the lengths men will go to for sex) and I took this opportunity to say,

"If he's happy with you then I'm happy for him but I'm not going to pretend that I'm not angry about how this is going to affect Mr. Summer's." She simply nodded. I don't think she knew what to say to me.

He comes back again and squeezes my hand one last time before they both head out. I project a thought to Dr.Grey as I watch them through a window, asking her to try and keep him out of trouble and she sais she'd do her best.

'I give 'em three months', I found myself thinking. Then the Professor's voice in my mind. 'I give them Four.'

Four? He always likes to believe the best in people.

I'm out,

Rogue.

* * *

Saturday, 24th, March - 2007 

Revelations:

Currently Listening: 'I know where you Sleep' By Emilie Autumn

Bobby is a cherry hound.

I just knew it was too good to be true. I knew there was something wrong with this situation. He was just too perfect; so nice, so considerate and understanding. Always buying me little gifts for silly little anniversaries that only he remembered. "Two weeks since our first date", "3 months since we first held hands", I mean really? Who the fuck does that?! But I know better now, and now that I do know, it makes sense. Whenever I got close to him I knew I could smell a predator but just not the kind I'm used to being on guard for, you know? (Thanks to the Wolverine I have an almost fully catalogued memory of the scent of every mutant in The Brotherhood that Logan has come into contact with. And I'm always on the look out.)

Anyway, you wanna know how I found out? The unignorable three sat me down up in the old noggin and told me. Can you imagine how uncomfortable that situation was? Logan, Eric and John telling me that my boyfriend is a cherry hound. Well I guess it makes sense that he would come after me. What would be a greater accomplishment in the mind of cherry hound than being the first of an untouchable? What a challenge! What a conquest! Quite the notch on the belt. Well. Fuck. Him.

I was sad for a while. He was the only one here aside from Logan who ever touched me, even if I could smell the fear coming off of him in waves while he did it, and I think I invested a lot of emotion in him because of that. Also it hurts to know that he never really cared. Plus knowing that the best I could do is some virginity fetishist asshole, well it doesn't do much for the self-esteem. After confronting and dumping his ass I spent the whole day in the forest crying off and on. I also, at one point, got angry, took my gloves off and took out a tree. Hey, it made me feel better! And tree energy is so much cleaner than human energy, so calming. But I'm done crying, I'm done being angry and I'm done being sad. I refuse to waste anymore emotional energy on the little wank.

Word on the wind is that Kitty is next. I'm not sure if she's meant to be a conquest or girlfriend but if Bobby seriously thinks that Kitty is a virgin he is in for a very rude awakening. Hahah.

Older and wiser,

Rogue.


	4. Month 1, Week 4

Sunday, 25th, March - 2007

Fun, drunk times with John.

Currently Listening: 'Celtic Dream' from The Lord of the Dance soundtrack. (Hangover music)

Got drunk with John last night. I went jogging after dark through the forest and came across he and Bobby on my way back, just in the outskirts of the forest, not too deep as to get lost. There they were just sitting against an old fallen tree with three bottles of J.D, two shot glasses and what would seem to be there attempt at a camp fire in front of them.

I stood still for a moment wondering if I should leave them be or go and talk to them and decided on the latter. But not before I got to scare them a little first. Gathering a few large-ish twigs I stood about two meters beyond reach of the fire light and snapped one of the twigs. You should have seen them both jump then start squinting around trying to see into the woods. It was so funny and remarkably easy, although they were really tipsy by that point. John recovered first, and made fun of Bobby a little for being scared. Silently I circled round to the other side of the campfire, waited a minute then snapped a second twig. They had another shot in them by then so they were just as scared but in their eyes was a tinge of that irrational craziness one sometimes finds in a frightened drunk so I decided to cut it out. Stepping into the fire light I snapped the third twig and said 'Boo'. Then started laughing as their faces turned red.

"Boys that was so easy if you weren't a little drunk it would be pathetic."

"What's pathetic," Bobby spat back, "is that you felt the need to do it."

"A gals gotta have her fun." I replied with a smirk. Trying his own little Bobby scowl he watched his insult roll right off my back like water and didn't like it one bit.

"Whatever, I'm out." He said, standing and starting for the mansion.

John stared after Bobby for a moment, apparently making a decision, then jerked his head to the recently vacated spot and poured the next round. Not having anything better to do I sat myself down next to him. Besides, I don't mind John. He's not like the rest of them. I'm not crushing on him or anything but I could see myself being friends with him. Despite the fact that he can be an asshole.

"So what crawled up his ass and decided to breed?" He asked, as only John can. Downing my first shot for the night and scrunching my face up from the taste and the burn I answered,

"I figured out that he's a cherry hound and dumped him. I don't think he likes that a girl, especially the one that he had set his sights on, had figured out his little game and called him on it before he succeeded."

"So it finally clicked did it?" He asked before downing a shot.

"Kinda. I was told." I replied after downing mine with him.

"By who?" He asked, curious. "This is the first time two chicks have caught on."

"Actually, by you." I answered, tapping my temple with a finger. "You, Logan and Er.. Magneto."

With that he burst out laughing. "You're shittin' me." He said, between breaths and laughter.

"I shit you not." I replied. Pouring and shotting while handing him his.

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, shotting occasionally. The next time he spoke I had achieved myself quite a yummy little buzz.

"What were you doing out in the woods, Roguey? Burying dead bodies, setting fires, anything quite so interesting?" He asked.

"Just jogging. I don't sleep much these days so I have some time on my hands." I replied.

"How the fuck don't you get lost?"

I smirked at that. "I have all the aspects of Logan's mutation bar the claws and the healing factor. His instinct, his enhanced senses, his ability to track. The woods are mine and Logan's territory. Pretty much the only person here who knows them better than me is him."

"Your 'territory'?" He asks, "That's fucking creepy."

"Yeah", I agreed. "Yeah, I guess It is." It occurred to me then how strange that must seem to him. It's been this way for me for so long now that I'm just used to it. I could navigate my way through the woods with my eyes closed, where as if John walked further than we are now in a straight line for five minutes, sober and in broad daylight, he'd be well and truly boned.

There was silence again for a while until I was quite drunk and he was very drunk and he spoke again. We had both layed down by then, watching the stars and sitting up briefly only to shot. (I'm still picking bits of god damn foliage from my hair)

"Why did you keep the streaks?" He asked.

"I kinda like them." I replied. "They accentuate my features." I finished, twisting some white around my fingers and giggling.

"Yes, Roguey. We've gathered that you like them. But what none of us can figure is why?" He said.

"I didn't know it was such a popular topic for debate, Sugah." I said, accentuating the 'sugah' just a little cause I remembered from the time I absorbed him that he likes it.

"Why. are. you. avoiding. the. question." He said, leaning over and poking me in the arm playfully with each word.

" I want to know." He said. With all the indignance of a 5 year old being left out on a secret. "Why don't you hate them?"

"Stop poking me", I shrieked. Probably matching him for maturity, considering how drunk I was, while smacking his hand away. "I need to get my words together, I'm waaaayyyyy too drunk to have an emotionally in depth conversation right now."

Then after a few minutes of thinking I answered.

"What happened to me on the statue was horrible. It put a dark place in me that I don't think will ever see light again and I can't ever forget that. But it's a part of me now and how can I regret what I am? Though it often makes me sad."

There was a pause after my little revelation then a

"Shit Roguey you should be a counselor or something."

Lying next to him I shot up like something bit me. "Yes, yes I should damn it!" I was having quite the revelation. "With this fucked up mutation I have exactly naught in the way of career prospects, but that's exactly what I can be! I'm going to be 'Roguey', Mutant High's school counselor!" At some point during my drunkenly dramatic revelation speech John had sat up and poured what would be our last shots of the night and said,

"I'll shot to that." And so we did.

Then, afterward,

"I need to pass out. Can you walk?"

"I can crawl." I replied.

"And here I was actually gonna try walking. You're havin' all the ideas."

Raising his arm and closing his hand slowly John put the fire out. Though it took a little more concentration than would have been usual, considering.

"Ok, lets crawl...Uh", He looked around, unsure.

"That way." I said nodding in the direction of the school and rolling my eyes. "We'll come back for the bottles tomorrow."

So that was fun drunk times with John. Of course the words spoken were more slurred and miss-pronounced-pronounced than I wrote, there was a lot more shotting taking place and I left out the constant Click, Click, Clicking of John's lighter, but that was pretty much all of it.

Despite the fact that it was a drunken revelation I'm actually giving serious thought to the whole school counselor idea. Though I don't think I'll be known as 'Roguey' the school counselor. Except maybe to the little ones cause they're mini and It would be cute when they say it.

Now, to Hank for some Panadine Forts for my 'cramps'. Cough hang over Cough. 'Hang over'? Who said that?

School is going to suck today.

Cursing audible air particle vibration,

Rogue.

* * *

Thursday, 29th, March - 2007

"The mind is it's own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." -Paradise Lost by John Milton.

Currently Listening: 'Lament' from The Lord of the Dance Soundtrack

It rained all day today. God I loath the rain. It rains and all at once even the tallest and most spacious of rooms in the mansion are grey and suffocating, dank and restraining. And my heart races as my mind kicks up and everyone I see is so much thinner, so bony and broken and still it's raining. And everything hurts and I panic and I can see the new arrivals and feel the anguish of knowing which ones are going to die because they're not useful and I curl up in a ball under a blanket in my room and it's still raining! And a girl stands out in the crowd from the train because I think she's pretty and I know it won't be long before the guards get to her, I'm too young to know what it is they want exactly but I'm old enough to have an idea and that it will be bad and I'm sorry. Even though I know there's nothing I can do I'm so sorry. It's hard to breath and it's still fucking raining! And in my room in my mind Eric holds me, wrapped in this little comforter his grandmother made him when he was five and he pats my hair and whispers soothing words until I'm ok again.

It's in moments like these on days like these that I hate them as much as he does. The Nazis, the humans, same difference. It's in moments like these on days like these that if you lined up the men responsible for the Holocaust I would remove my gloves and, without pause and without conscience, suck them dry, and I'd do it for him. And It's in moments like these on days like these that I don't hate him for putting me into that machine. Not even a little. Not a bit. It's in moments like these on days like these that, instead, I wish it had worked.

I used to love the rain, still do on my good days.

This doesn't happen every time it rains. Just those rainy days when I'm especially psychologically tired and weak.

Eric has changed me, maybe the most of everyone I've ever absorbed. I may have a few bad days when the weathers a bitch but he has put in me the willingness to protect myself with the 'talent' I've been given. 'Me' Marie, not 'me' Rogue. It was Rogue that protected me during those months on the road. I couldn't have done it. But I would now. I'd drop anyone who threatened me and I'd do it in cold blood. He's made me capable of that. I am both thankful and resentful to him for this change.

I've done some research and found a little information that saughta, in part, explains what happened to me when I found Scott in the danger room that time.

You know that phrase 'It's not how you look on the outside but what's on the inside that counts.' As it turns out this statement holds scientific truth:

'While looks might appear as the most important factor at the start of any relationship, what drives strong emotional feelings are a series of chemical signals being emitted by the male. These chemical signals, or pheromones, interact with specific sites in female nostrils to cause intense emotional feelings. These sites include a series of vemeronasal organs that process pheromone signals from men and connect directly to a part of the brain that manages basic drives and emotions. The pheromones act as emotional stimuli and carry an array of markers that can identify a particular male's major histocompatibility complex (MHC), or a cluster of genes that play an important role in immune function. To respond to continuously changing environmental selection pressures, the MHC and pheromone signals, work effectively with female mate preferences to ensure a diverse selection of allele combination for future progeny. The MHC influences both body odors and body odor preference in human females to ensure the production of genetically diverse offspring.'

Ah, big words hurting my little head. Well no, not really. It pretty much made sense, I just had to look a few words up. This next part is easy.

It also turns out that the phrase 'opposites attract' has some scientific merit:

'Unknowingly we seek out those different from us to create the healthiest and strongest offspring. They are the future after all.

In this law of opposites scent is an extremely good indication. If the scent of your "mate" gives you chills and turns you on then you're on to a winner; you have no doubt found someone with a different type of immune system compared with your own. Of course we all have the ability to fight off infection but some people are better at fighting different infections and so when seeking out a "mate" we search for those with the strengths to our weaknesses and the weaknesses to our strengths in the hopes that the offspring will have more strengths than weaknesses and be healthier than either of the parents.'

So what was happening was:

I had just hit my peek.

I had no idea what was happening to me.

I had little to no control over myself.

And I was picking up on the fact that he was sexually frustrated and that we are compatible if not well suited to breed.

Oh, gee, was that all?

Hating that I could ever be reduced to something so base,

Rogue.


	5. Month2, Week 1

Monday, 2nd, April - 2007

A tad different up here in the old noggin...:

Currently Listening: 'You know you're right.' By Nirvana

An excerpt from 'Hannibal' By Thomas Harris:

"As he had done in his cell so many times, Dr. Lecter in the Palazzo of the Capponi, so we will go with him now into the palace of his mind...

The foyer is the Norman Chapel in Palermo, severe and beautiful and timeless, with a single reminder of mortality in the skull graven in the floor. Unless he is in a great hurry to retrieve information from the palace, Dr. Lecter often pauses here as he does now, to admire the chapel. Beyond it, far and complex, light and dark, is the vast structure of Dr. Lecters making.

The memory palace was mnemonic system well known to ancient scholars and much information was preserved in them through the Dark Ages while Vandals burned the books. Like scholars before him, Dr.Lecter stores and enormous amount of information keyed to objects in his thousand rooms, but unlike the ancients, Dr. Lecter has a second purpose for his palace; sometimes he lives there. He has passed years among it's exquisite collections, while his body lay bound on a violent ward with screams buzzing the steel bars like hell's on harp.

Hannibal Lecter's palace is vast, even by swift slippers of his mind pass from the foyer into the Great Hall of Seasons. The palace is built according to the rules discovered by Simonides of Ceos and elaborated by Cicero four hundred years later; it is airy, high-ceilinged, furnished with objects and tableaux that are vivid, striking, sometimes shocking and absurd, and often beautiful. The displays are well spaced and well lighted like those of a great museum. But the walls are not the neutral colors of museum walls. Like Ciotto, Dr. Lecter has frescoed the walls of his mind.

He has decided to pick up Clarice Starling's home address while he is in the palace, but he is in no hurry for it, so he stops at the foot of a great staircase where the Riace bronzes stand. These great bronze warriors attributed to Phidias, raised from the seafloor in our own time, are the centerpiece of a frescoes space that could unspool all of Homer and Sophocles.

Dr.Lecter could have the bronze faces speak meleager if he wished, but today he only wants to look at them.

A thousand rooms, miles of corridors, hundreds of facts attached to each object furnishing each room, a pleasant respite awaiting Dr.Lecter whenever he chooses to retire there.

But this we share with the doctor: In the vaults of our hearts and brains, danger waits. All the chambers are not lovely, light and high. There are holes in the floor of the mind, like those in a medieval dungeon floor-the stinking oubliettes, named for forgetting, bottle-shaped cells in solid rock with the trapdoor in the top. Nothing escapes from them quietly to ease us. A quake, some betrayal by our safeguards, and sparks of memory fire the noxious gases- things trapped for years fly free, ready to explode in pain and drive us to dangerous behavior...

Fearfully and wonderfully made, we follow as he moves with a swift light stride along the corridor of his own making, through a scent gardenias, the presence of great sculpture pressing on us, and the light of pictures..."

"...Dr. Lecter can move down the vast halls of his memory palace with unnatural speed. With his reflexes and strength, apprehensive and speed of mind, Dr. lecter is well armed against the physical world. But there are places within himself that he may not safely go, where Cicero's rules of logic, of ordered space and light do not apply..."

Isn't that so fucking fascinating!!! Though I find it a tad disturbing that I have a psychological landscape similar to a serial killer, even if he is only fictional. Though my mind is more like Stephen King's Rose Red than Dr. Lecter's memory palace. Dr.Lecter had a photographic memory and so everything he ever experienced since the day he started his memory palace, every book he read, every person he met, every conversation had, every smell, sound, sight, taste, everything he ever experienced was put somewhere in Dr. Lecter's memory palace. That's where our minds differ. I do not have a photographic memory. I do, on the other hand, have tenants. So the building constitutes my mind isn't just for the storing of information but for the shelter of people. So my mind is more like Rose Red in that It shifts to suit my needs as far as the absorption of minds go, not just the recording of knowledge. When another person is absorbed, a new room is added and when a person fades their room disappears when that person has faded completely.

And I had nothing to do with it. I absorbed Cody and after that was too busy freaking out to notice how my mind had changed to accommodate the side-effects of my mutation to the best of it's abilities. In this regard I realise that I am one of the lucky ones. My mind could not have changed at all and I could have ended up a raving lunatic. Eric once said that my mind is 'a dangerous and unique thing, though magnificent for all that.' I suppose he would know, you know?

So, there is the basement, where bits and pieces of all the men who tried to, uh, 'have there way with me' while I was on the road reside. That door is behind a five meter thick concrete wall, which is behind a brick wall which is behind a door with such advanced computer locks and manual locks that every locksmith and computer hacker on the planet would say 'I ain't touchin' that with a fifty foot pole'. Then there are the middle floors on which one would find the residents rooms. The number of rooms and floors varies of course as too how many people I have in my head at any one time. The next floor up is my room. (I get an entire floor, oh yes, that's right. Haha) Then the top floor is records. Where the information and memories absorbed from each person can be found in that particular individuals assigned filing cabinet. Cabinets are in alphabetical order and the room is un-accessible to the other residents. After absorption everything, psychy and memories alike are shoved in a room until I have the time and the privacy to meditate or sleep to go up and file away the information and memories gained.

Though not all of this just happened. That would be just a tad unrealistic. When I absorbed Cody my mind created the house structure but It took about 4 years of meditation to get everything the way it is now. Back then I couldn't keep everyones doors shut and locked if I needed them to be. I couldn't keep my door locked to everyone else all the time. I couldn't keep the basement locked all the time, and sure as hell not as securely as it is now. I couldn't keep records locked to others and you have no idea how long it took me set up the filing system letalone put the information where it should be. It took four years of regular meditation to get my head in order.

But as far as the initial change goes, I lucked out.

Feeling lucky,

Rogue.

* * *

Wednesday, 4th, April - 2007 

Ginger had a point:

Currently Listening: 'November Rain' By Guns'n'Roses

Just so we're clear here. The words 'Just' and 'Cramps'. They don't go together.

* * *

Saturday, 7th, April - 2007 

'Music has been my playmate, my lover, and my crying towel.' - Buffy Saint-Marie

Currently Listening: 'Where the wild things are' By Metallica

Touch is nothing. I can live without touch. But if I ever went deaf I would die. I'm not saying this out of over dramatic teenage angst. I don't think I've ever loved anything more than I do music. Certainly not myself. Everything else pales in comparison.

'Music is what feelings sound like.'- Unknown

'Without music, life would be an error.' -Frederick Nietzsche

'Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.' - Berthold Auerbach

'Why waste money on psychotherapy when you can listen to the B Minor Mass?' - Michael Torke

'Music's the medicine of the mind.' - John A. Logan

'What passion cannot music raise and quell!' - John Dryden

'Without music, life is a journey through a desert.' - Pat Conroy

'There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.' - George Eliot (1819-80)[Mary Ann Evans British writer

'I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.' - George Eliot

Sometimes if I'm feeling particularly sad or worried at night, instead of finding something to fill the time I lie in bed, and, tuning out all else, I focus on three particular noises. Three heartbeats; Logans, The Professors and Scotts. Ridiculous to be soothed by something so black and white in a world that deals only in shades of grey, but, as long as those hearts are beating, everything's ok.

(Cocks head to the side and listens)

Everything's O.k,

Rogue.


	6. Month 2, Week 2

Tuesday, 10th, April - 2007

Lengthen the distance, shorten the leash:

Currently Listening: 'Push It' by Garbage.

I'm currently in the forest on a break between jogs. I couldn't go to math today, not while Mr.Summers was the one teaching it. I told the Professor and he understood. Today has been particularly bad for me, and I don't mean 'spitballs, being picked on in the girls locker room, nobody loves me everybody hates me, I think I'll go eat worms' bad. I mean 'If I'm in the same room as Mr. Summer's for longer than thirty seconds I'm going to jump him regardless of who's watching' bad.

Yes, I know this sounds the equivalent of a girl using cramps to get out of P.E but you need to understand how it is for me.

There's this line in a Garbage song called 'Push It' that goes:

'This is the noise that keeps me awake, my head explodes and my body aches.'

That line is pretty much the epitome of me when Mr Summers is in the room. And it's not so much that the noise that he makes keeps me awake, It's that everything about him enthralls me and my body go's insane over him. My hearing becomes instantly attuned to his heartbeat, to the sound of his movements, to changes in his voice. My sense of smell is instantly attuned to his scent and the subtle changes in it. I'm instantly aware of his body language, and of the subtle movement of facial muscles. And everything about him makes me want him.

No, lets skip the human concept of want here and go straight to _need_.

It's pretty much how the song sais it. 'My head explodes and my body aches'. A litany starts up just beyond conscious mind; _Mine_, _Want_, _Need_. I can feel it there, a constant recital, adding fuel to the fire. And it is a fire, a constant ache that starts at the apex of my thighs and quickly spreads, consuming everything.

It's a powerful thing, the need to breed. And it wouldn't be so bad if it was just that, but the fact that my body seems to have singled out Mr. Summers as the one It wants makes it that much worse, makes it stronger, more acute.

There are days when I can keep myself in line with him around and there are days when I can't. Today is one of those days.

Horny, very, very, very, horny,

Rogue.

Friday, 13th, April - 2007

About the ball, and it not being in my court:

Currently Listening: 'The Sacrifice' by Michael Nyman ('The Piano' Soundtrack)

A long entry today but I have the time cause I'm currently in the middle of math procrastinating my work. Warning: Extensive use of the words 'Mr' and 'Summers'.

I couldn't sleep last night (Shock Horror) so I thought I'd make myself a cup of hot chocolate, (it wasn't cold at all but sometimes it helps me drift off, you know?) head out to the patio outside the staff kitchen and watch Storm. Apparently an Ex of hers is moving to the school and taking a teaching position and I think she was working out some of her aggression before he arrives today. Lucky for her that afternoon was headed for pre-storm territory anyway so she could get away with it without bringing attention to the school. I don't like it when she's in a bad mood, I mean nobody wants there friends to feel bad, but god I love watching her do her thing. The woman's an artist.

So down I went to the kitchen, I walk to the cupboard, grab my secret stash of home recipe hot chocolate (the best in the world, if I do say so myself) only to almost have the life scared out of me by a,

"Hiding food from the other residents, Rogue?"

I squealed like a girl (like a human girl, Magneto corrects. Because that's apparently worse. Cue eyerolling) as I spun round to see, lighten in a quick flash of lightning, Mr.Summers.

"Christ Mr. Summers, way to almost give a gal a coronary!" I said, one hand over my thumping heart as I turned on the lights. He laughed, you know, the kind of 'with you not at you' laugh that always happens in these types of moments. It's been a few weeks since I've heard him laugh, it still sounded kinda sad, but he laughed none-the-less and god it made me smile. And, of course I was completely aware of him. Aware of his scent, the light scent of recently washed away cologne and sweat, of coffee, and of something that could only be identified as Mr. Summers. Aware of how absolutely gorgeous he looked, even in just his black, cotton, draw string pajama pants and a wife beater...Sigh. I managed to not drool or throw myself at him though, I'm quite proud of myself.

"So what do you have there?" He asked, indicating the small jar of chocolate mix I had left on the counter.

"It's hot chocolate mix. My Nannas secret recipe, she taught it to my Mum, who taught it to me." I answered, gathering what I needed. He didn't seem at all surprised that I knew my way around the staff kitchen. Most of the older students do.

"Secret Hmmm?" He asked. I stopped at the sound of mischief in his voice and turned slowly to see a grin on his face. Another thing I've missed, though it looked somewhat out of place there.

"Ok, name your price." I said with a sigh, but smiling. The grin widened as he stood and washed out his empty coffee cup, handing it to me.

"I think you may be able to buy my silence if you make me a cup." I pulled a face as if I were putting serious thought into this oh so important decision because it occurred to me at that point that we were playing around and he was smiling and he seemed happy and so I kept playing because I want so much for him to be happy.

"You play dirty Mr. Summers. I'm afraid I have no choice but to acquiesce." I finally said.

So we sat and had hot chocolate and bantered about random things and he smiled and laughed a lot. I liked making him smile, I liked it a lot. In fact I've made it a mission of mine to give him cause to smile more often. Besides, his deep voiced laugh is about fifty different kinds of sin and sexy as hell.

We had finished our hot chocolate and had been sitting in a comfortable silence for a little while before he said,

"You know Rogue you're the only person apart from the Professor and Ro to treat me normally since Jean left. Everyone's so worried that they're going to say something to upset me that they avoid conversation."

"They just don't know what to say is all." I replied. "I think If you show them that you are on your way to being over Dr. Grey then they'll start to act normal again. I've gotta say though, Mr. Summers, that you're taking it all very well."

"We had been on the rocks for quite a while, actually. We both, Jean and I, knew that this was coming. I suppose that fact softened the blow." He answered.

We sat quietly for a little while longer and I felt that I should let him in on a truth that I've known since Dr. Grey and Logan took off.

"It won't last long, whatever it is they have." I blurted out. Then mentally whacked myself up the back of the head for being so tactless.

"And how do you know this?" He asked. He seemed amused and slightly interested in my prediction, so I relaxed a bit.

"Because I have Logan and the Wolverine up here" I said, tapping my temple. "Dr. Grey may be what Logan wants but it is the Wolverine who is the deciding factor. And while the Wolverine is happy to bide his time with random women he will not settle with anyone less than his mate, and Dr. Grey is not 'mate' material." I said, then quickly added. "Well, at least not the Wolverines." I felt, then, that maybe I had insulted him a little. She had sought of been his mate for years after all. "Once they both realise this they'll be back." He sat quietly. Thinking over what I had just said as it turns out, because he replied with,

"Who's to say that I want her back?" I looked up from my cup giving him my best 'I am damn proud of you' smile and he smiled back. "I miss her and on some level I still love her, but I could never take her back. Trust is a big thing to me and I could never trust her again. At least not to the extent that I would need to feel trust in a partner."

It was at this point that we realised Ro had gone to bed so we decided to call it a night. He offered me his arm, which I'm sure made me glow, and walked me back to my room. Once at my door he said,

"I really enjoyed talking with you Rogue." He looked kind of embarrassed and then continued, "Tonight was the first night since Jean left that I've really enjoyed myself. Thank you for that." By this time I'm pretty sure I was glowing so much that I was lighting the hallway.

"It was no hardship on my part Mr. Summers, I had fun too." I answered. "You're great company."

"You know your Grandmothers recipe really is the best I've tasted." He commented.

"Damn right it is." I answered, earning a small laugh in return. "You're welcome to have some anytime. I keep it in that cupboard behind the carob. But don't tell."

"Mums the word I swear, we do have a deal after all. But what if one of the teachers actually wants some carob and finds the jar?" He asked.

"You know, It's never come up." I answered, laughing. Who eats chocolate substitute anyway?

Then he did something I never saw coming. He reached out, unhooked some hair from behind my ear then used it as a shield to lay his hand on my check. His thumb rubbing along the hair against my temple.

"You're such a kind soul, Rogue." He said. I think subconsciously I closed my eyes and leant into his touch. And It wasn't just because it was touch, It's because it was Mr. Summers' touch. I love that it was Mr. Summers' touch.

"So are you, Mr. Summers." I said.

"Scott." He said. Slowly (almost reluctantly, I like to hope) removing his hand. "Please, outside of class call me Scott."

"Sure thing." Meanwhile I'm like doing this little 'I'm on a first name basis with Scott' dance inside my head. (Inner Logan rolled his eyes and I'm pretty sure inner Eric did too, though he fiercely denies performing such a 'childish' gesture) Then, settling, I gathered my courage for what I was about to do and tried to think of the right wording. Something told me it was all about the wording. So many people would have approached him and offered a shoulder, someone to talk to. Then kept insisting time and again when he never took them up on it. That's not gonna help him at all. The wording would be the difference between a pushy suffocating friend and a genuine offer to listen, complete with breathing room. I reached forward, put a hand on his covered bicep and said:

"I'm here if you need me."

I think that was the right way to go. He smiled again and we said our goodnights and off he went.

So, I've made my offer. The ball is in his court.

Happy but horny,

Rogue.

Posts may be far between from here on out because I'm having such a problem writing Scott and rogue entries at the moment. I've written almost all of them except for the ones with Scott and Rogue together. Sigh.


	7. Month 2, Week 3

Tuesday, 17th, April - 2007

'Sometimes you're nothing but meat...' Blood Roses by Tori Amos

Currently Listening: 'Blood Roses' By Tori Amos

I just woke up from one of my own nightmares. Which I wasn't exactly happy about but I was glad it wasn't one of Lagan or Eriks. I never remember all of it when I have my own, just bits and pieces, but of course for these particular dreams memory always makes up where dreamscape fails.

The words "Ana-Marie's my footy buddy" spoken in my grandfathers voice. He always liked my full name better, come to think of it that's probably why I loath it. Then I'm with him in the den and it's dark, the only light coming from the football game on the television set. He's lying on his back along the couch and he's placed me on top of him. I'm lying along his body my back against his chest and he's touching me under my clothing. Other times I'm pinned under him on the couch and he's grinding himself against me between my thighs. Other times it's the same but in reverse, he's sat me on top of him, his big hands on my hips forcing me to grind against him. Other things like that. Him talking all the while about how pretty he thought I was, about how I was his 'special little girl'. Then, afterwards, the words 'Don't tell'. I never did. Except for Logan, of course, but that was years later. Obviously.

To this day I can't stand football, not that I was an avid football fan B.T.B. (Before The Bastard)

I wish that was all the damage that came of it.

I abhor him.

_"His breath falls into my mouth, the only air I have. His hands start at my ankles and slide up my shins, pulling them apart like a vise, and I know what is coming as his fingers stab into me._

_He won't let me close my legs, he won't let me curl away. There is blood on his hand. He pushes against my shoulders and draws a red line down the middle of my chest. It cracks open and I feel him reaching deep inside me, tight and uncomfortable; then something snakes out like jelly and when I lift my eyes I see Chris's teeth sink into my heart."_

_'The Pact'_

_Jodi Picoult_

Scott and I are different now. I can feel it, even though it's only been four days since our night in the kitchen. We find each other looking at each other more in class, during meals and smile widely when we catch each other. This afternoon, yesterday afternoon I guess, he came outside after classes and sat with me. I was reading and he had some tests to mark so we didn't actually talk but It was good. He just walked up with a red pen and a stack of papers, sat himself next to me, smiled when I looked up at him and then began his marking. Just like that. He smelt of him and coffee and peppermint and the warmth of him next to me reminded me of that fateful day, so many years ago, when I knelt next to Cody in a nervous fidget, pointing out destinations on the map above my bed. Well, you know, before it all went to shit. I'm getting used to the lower level of being 'in heat' while he's around. I actually found that I was able to read without distraction with him next to me.

I'm not getting back to sleep tonight. I think I'll go jogging, or maybe to the library. What time is it?... 1:14 am. I've got the time, I'll do both. The Library first, then jogging.

Getting ready for a little breaking and entering,

Rogue.

* * *

Saturday, 21st, April -2007

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. 'I am. I am. I am.'" -Sylvia Plath

Currently Listening: 'Highway Song' By System of a Down

It seems Kitty and Jubes have taken me on as a project. You know, integrate the new girl and all that. Little late though, I've been here for almost four years. I nod and smile and agree with there inane babbling while rolling my eyes on the inside. No friendships made in such a way ever stood the test of anything. But whatever, it gives me something to do with some of my spare time.

It was a movie afternoon within their little group and It was us girls turn to choose the movies. Jubes chose 'The Girl with the Pearl Earring' much to the boys distaste. Alas, nothing explodes. Kitty chose 'The Cell' for the Vincent D' Onofrio factor, not that Jubes and I oppose the idea, there's just something about the man, be still our beating hearts, and for the fact that she hadn't seen it before. And I chose 'The Virgin Suicides' because I've just read the book for a book report and wanted to see the movie.

Girl with a Pearl Earring was really good. The others didn't quite understand why his wife was so upset when she found out that he had painted Griet. They didn't understand that he, being an artist, lives and breathes to paint. (He was a painter) That he had this separate world that was meant for him and his art alone. And that he didn't want his wife to be any part of it because she just didn't understand art. The way certain colors together can change a persons mood, the way certain subject matter appeals to different natures, things like that. And because she didn't understand he didn't want to paint her, and thus bring her into his world. So when he painted Griet and got her to help mix his colors and the like she became apart of the world that was cut off to his wife and so she came to know him, and become close to him, in a way that his wife never would. His wife realised this and felt betrayed and jealous. Everyone else just thought she was over reacting. Perhaps I saw it better because I by nature look at things with the analytical eye of an advanced english student. No wonder they always need my help when it comes to text analysis.

The Cell was as I remembered it. I knew the boys would get into it after a little while which, what do ya know?, they did. It reminded me of the first time I ever saw it, I had forgotten. My brother let me watch it with him once when our parents were out. Despite it being on the list of movies I wasn't allowed to see. He was cool like that : )

I like the way the movie presented the mind of Vincent D' Onofrio's character. The criminal mind fascinates me. Over the last year or so I have discovered a passion for Abnormal and Criminal psychology. I can't help but feel a little bit of bitterness in the knowledge that If I had any other mutation then I could possibly get a job in one of those fields, but it won't happen. No college and no FBI training academy would risk accepting someone with my mutation, even if I did learn to control it. It's struck me just how limited my choices really are.

Nobody but myself liked 'The Virgin Suicides'. The girls found it depressing and Bobby and John said it was a "boring chick flick bout a bunch of emo sisters over-reacting about a mildly bad family life." I think the problem with those two is that they believe that a movie has to have a point (or at least a car chase) and they find them boring when they don't. The Virgin Suicides is an emotionally targeting commentary on the necessity of social interaction and stable home environment to the psychological, emotional and physical development of children and adolescents. At least that's how it struck me. (Again, god I love psychology) Though, to give the boys credit it is a bit of a chick flick.

I don't know. It just really got to me the way they just dismissed the girls and their issues as if they didn't matter. I know that it is just a movie but would they have been as nonchalant about it if it were based on a true story? If said sisters were kept locked inside by their parents because they were mutants and their parents didn't want their neighborhood to know? I mean couldn't they see the physical evidence of the girls pain? The pale sallowed skin, the sunken eyes, ribs and hips jutting as they almost completely stopped eating, hair falling out. The different ways they each tried to confirm to themselves that they still existed in the world. Therese constantly studying, grasping on to facts for dear life, the logic of reality, memorising all the information she possibly could about the world so she could prove to herself that she still lived in it. Mary constantly in front of her make-up mirror, applying and re-applying her make-up, trying to touch beauty, to be beautiful. The thing every teenage girl in the western culture seems to desire. The way Bonnie delved into religion, smothering herself in Christianity, the religion of the world as she knew it. And, finally, Lux. Who would guide random boys and men to the roof top and fuck them. Not make love. Have sex with them. Relishing in the heat of their skin against the symbolically dead cold of hers, relishing the pain as they moved inside her, reassuring her that she was really there. That she was alive.

How could the others brush off the girls pain when it was so evidently considerable?

I lay awake sometimes at night, usually after one of my nightmares about the Bastard grandfather, and think about the Lisbon sisters. Their frame of mind, their attitudes toward themselves and each other and the world. And I think of Lux Lisbon and wonder, if I didn't have poisonous skin, would I have reacted the same?

Perhaps I empathise with the Lisbon sisters. When you never touch and never are touched, when you're alone most of the time, even in a room full of people, avoided and ignored because no one wants to get too close to your skin it is sometimes hard to stay grounded. I, like them, have found myself sometimes wondering If I am real. Perhaps that is why I enjoy danger room sessions so much. Not just that I am touched, even if it is only through clothing, but that I get hurt. Pain, perhaps the most effective indicator of life. I get knocked about, hit. I watch the bruises form days afterward and feel the pain when the impact happens, branching along my nerves, up my spine, wrapping it's lightning hands around my brain. To _feel_ it, to feel it and to _know_ it. I feel it work me over with rough hands that thrill and think _'I am'_.

Suddenly the popular one,

Rogue.


	8. Month 2, Week 4

Tuesday, 17th April - 2007

Sexless:

Currently Listening: 'The Big Come Down' by Nine Inch Nails

Jubes walked in on me masturbating this afternoon. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Gee, I wonder why? Neither of us were embarrassed, I've walked in on both of my room mates at one point or another. It's just part of sharing such close quarters, It's not really that big of a deal with us anymore. In fact Jubes was surprised. She didn't think that I did it. I do, I'm just better at not getting caught.

I mean seriously, did they really think that I didn't? I'm a 17 year old virgin. Me and sexual frustration? Yeah, we've met.

They'd all just as soon assume that since I can't have any then that means I don't want any.

Sometimes I wish someone'd buy a rabbit (it's a type of vibrator) and leave me be. I'm too young to go into those types of stores for myself.

I'm thinking of getting my hair cut. Though I'm not sure how I want it and I don't want to ask Kitty or Jubillee for help for fear of being stuck with them all day as they go through magazines and ask me if I like the hair cut on the model who's picture they're shoving in my face. Le sigh.

John and I have started to hang together a lot lately. It's a strange sort of friendship built on silence and mutual respect. We don't talk, at all. I think that's part of the reason we drifted towards each other after we got drunk that night. We're both the silent type, not really speaking unless spoken too. The only exception being, of course, John's penchant for smartassery. (Yay, New word) With everyone else if you don't participate and talk you're kind of classed as antisocial, where as together we know that we don't have to talk if we don't feel the need. I'm more myself with him than any of the other students and I think he's the same with me. I don't even mind the clicking. (His lighter)

Later,

Rogue.

Friday, 20th, April - 2007

The pretty things are going to hell, they wore it out but they wore it well...

Currently Listening: 'King Kill 33' by Marilyn Manson

I'm very tired. I find that I'm tired a lot these days. It's hard to be the person they want me to be all the time. To be a good girl and take on their beliefs/cause as my own, train on the junior team and smile and be Great! And be Happy! And be Amazing! And be Precocious! And hang around the other students my age as if I really were their age. I like the other students here, I do, but where it counts we're just not on the same page and sometimes it shows so easily.

I don't know. Sometimes I feel as if I am a child from the year 1900 being reared in a certain way as to suite the tastes of the man to whom I'm promised. And I am promised. Nobody ever talks about it but I am. I'm promised to the X-men. Because I can pick up other peoples mutations using my own, because they saved my life (not that I'm ungrateful) and because I couldn't possibly have a life outside the mansion with my particular mutation it's just assumed that I will be joining the team. I have a place here provided I be what they want me to be. Every X-man here is so fake, their love so conditional. Well, except for Scott, of course.

At least when I'm alone, or with Logan or John I can just be Marie. Or at least be whatever little Marie there is left up here. (taps temple) I talk with Eric a lot when I'm alone. He doesn't try to change me. In fact I think he likes me the way I am. Ever the fan of a good, heated discussion I think he enjoys having someone of a different opinion to talk with. He's teaching me to play chess.

You know, I don't even know where this entry came from. I remember writing it and all but I've never felt this way before. At least not to this extent.

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!! This isn't me! I _don't know _what I'm saying! I _never know _what I'm saying! I don't know, maybe this is a mixture of John and Eric that is seeping through into me. I've been under a more psychological stress since I hit my peak, I'll have to watch this more closely. I'm just tired. Very, very tired.

Tired, Promised and Pissed about it,

Rogue.

Edit: Night-Early morning,

Currently listening: 'Impressed' By Natalie Imbruglia

I've just come back from the library after a very...trying...encounter with Scott. I was wearing this night dress that I bought a few days ago. The same style as the one I wore my first night here, except this one is black silk and has a red Bonsai tree embroidered on the front and back and this one is just a little more form fitting. It was expensive as hell and the most money I'd ever spent on a piece of clothing, ever. The moment of purchase was the girliest I'd ever been and Kitty was quite proud. (rolls eyes)

I was standing in the horror section looking at Stephen King novels when he saw me, reaching up on tip toe, arm stretched, finger tip running along the spines as I read. I heard him enter the library of course, heard him from down the hall actually, so I knew he was coming and heard when he stopped with a low gasp as he saw me.

He liked what he saw.

It wasn't until I began to smell arousal, _his_ arousal, that I realised just how much he liked what he saw. As you can imagine that smell wasn't helping me a damn bit. My pulse began to race and my body temp rose, It took everything I had in me to stop myself from throwing myself at him! So talking was out of the question. I had to get out of there, fast. My first plan of action was to wait it out, see if he would leave. Pretty much everyone forgets about the enhanced senses so I kept on as I would have if I thought I was alone, thinking he would leave. Instead, he kept staring. Any other time in my cycle and I wouldn't have mind, I'd have been self-conscious, but I wouldn't have mind. But not only am I peaking, but this is my first peak which means I have, as of yet, little tolerance for this, and especially not this type of situation. He has no idea just how close he was to getting jumped.

So I turned to plan number two: Work the teacher angle. He may see me as a woman (now) but he's been my teacher longer. Laying off the 'woman' and laying on the 'student' so he would inadvertently slip into guardian mode, I planted both feet firmly on the ground, grabbed two books and rested them in the crook of my arm on my hip and moved my attention to the books at eye level so I wasn't stretched out in front of him. Then as a finishing touch a started humming this pretty little tune my mother used to hum for me when I was sad or sick as a little girl. Just as expected after a minute or so he became troubled, turned and left as quietly as he could so as not to be heard. I can imagine his thoughts as he did so. _She's a student. A student! I was having carnal thoughts about a student! I'm not fit to teach! I'm a perverted lecher!_

I feel awful for making him feel that way and think those things and for making him doubt himself. Frankly, If he isn't a trustworthy teacher then none of them are! But I had to get him away from me and a confrontation would have only ended in bad.

So things have changed again, and it's timing could not have been worse.

Rogue.


	9. But I Digress!

I got laptop for my birthday a while ago, which is great of course until my sister, deciding that now I have a computer of my own, my stuff no longer needs to be on the other one. So she deletes it. All of it. All my works in progress, including this one, down the drain. I, being the imbecile that I am, didn't have any back up copies of what I had already written. Since then I have tried to pick up the thread of this fick, but I just can't seem to get myself back into the frame of mind I was in when I wrote the other entries. I will keep attempting, of course, but the chance of me picking this fic back up seriously are slim to none. I will update with other entries I manage to re-write to my standards but they won't be posted in order according to plot. So they won't be linear at all.

Here are two I've managed to re-write:

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Of Issues and interesting uses of vegetable matter:

Currently listening: White Wing Dove By Stevie Nicks

So here I am live from the forest, I'm sitting at the scene of the crime. (Where John and I got drunk) I would be in the room but Jubes and Kitty have decided to host a beauty day for the girls we know. You know, when they paint each others nails and put vegetable matter on their faces. I was invited of course but I regretfully (Ha) declined and promptly hawled ass in the other direction. I just don't understand the compulsion to go to such lengths to make your body look better. Probably something to do with the respect, love and pride they have for their bodies. None of which I have for my own. The first time I was sexually abused by the bastard grandfather was the last time I would ever see my body as something worthy of love and respect, and would ever care about it as such. I became detached from my body, shrank back from it as if it were going to devour me. I felt that it were dark and possibly dank and definately dirty. And silent, the body was silent, my body was not to be spoken of.(I was, after all, raised in a good catholic house hold.) I did not trust it. It seemed treacherous. The manifestation of my mutation only served to re-enforce those already deeply ingrained beliefs.

Instead, this body and I seem to have a sought of grudging symbiosis. It needs me for maintenance, and I need it to lug my mind about. I keep it healthy, clean and up to par and it provides me with a body in which to manifest on the physical plain. So far so good.

Edit: After dinner:

Ro just left. She came by after dinner to have a talk 'woman to woman'. She wanted to know how I would feel about she and Logan getting together. I think she thought I was going to cry and go all "woe is me, the man I love doesn't love me". Aparently she is as cluless as everyone else as to my actual feelings towards Logan. To which I wasn't exactly surprised just a little disapointed. Of everyone here she seemed the most observant. She was adorably nervous though. I just wanted to pat her on the head. I didn't of course, I got the feeling she wouldn't apreciate it. Heheh. So I did the best I could to asure her that I was absolutely fine with it and let her go. I've never seen a person leave my room so quickly, the poor woman was that uncomfortable. I thought it was hilarious but had the decency not to laugh until she was gone. Heheh. Oh Stormy.

And I am fine with it. I really do think she could be it for Logan. My inner wolvie seems to think so too. And while the others won't quite get it I understand how the raging storm, a quiet rain, and soothing winds could tame the wild beast. For he is an animal after all. And I don't mean that in a bad way. We're all animals, his animal nature is just a little bit closer to the surface than the rest of us as a result of his mutation. He's a creature of nature, and she is nature personified.

But if she wants Logan, If she really wants Logan, she will have to learn to accept his moments of infidelity. Oh he will be faithful of course. While the Wolverine may have been, for lack of a better term, a manwhore, when he finds his mate he is fiercely loyal. But there are places in Logan that only I have gone, places that only I have touched. No matter how long they are together, how much he tells her, however much she comes to understand him in the time to come, she will never know him the way that I do. When she finds us on the couch in the rec room during midnight patrol or together on the grass some afternoons. When she sees us going in or coming out of the forest together, early mornings in the kitchen, myself with a mug of coffee and he brushing my hair, speaking without words. I think she knows.

But will she accept it?

Rogue.

Of disembodied torsos and the (lack of) psychological evolution in the male half of our species:

Currently Listening: Tourniquet by Marilyn Manson

I wore a skirt today. With two pairs of fishnets for safety, of course. Those ones where the gaps are really small. It was my very first time at the mansion in anything other than pants.

The effect was ridiculous.

Everyone over the age of twelve and sporting a Y chromosome, excepting Logan, the Professor, Scott and Hank, were staring at me. Eyes swinging with my hips as I walk by, roaming over my legs in class, when I was sitting thigh crossed over thigh on the couch in the rec room during Daria. I'm not conceited, I'm the last person on the planet that would claim to be the center of attention such as that, but with Logans mutation I know when I'm being watched and today I was not lacking for attention.

I'm also not an idiot. They don't want me, I know that. They want the idea of me. The idea of fucking 'Ava' (So named after the killing curse 'Avada Kadavra' from Harry Potter. What are they? Five?) fascinates them. Getting so close to death then getting away with it. Would they slip and hit a patch of skin? Would it feel good to cum while on the knifes edge of consciousness, knowing you might not wake up again? Would it be the ride of their lives?

Also the fact, well the fact as far as they are concerned, that I am uncharted territory, as it were, seems to fascinate them aswell. The thought of being my first, with no basis for comparison. Of being the destroyer of my physical innocence. It pleases them. Neanderthol at best but, alas, that is about as far as men seem to have evolved thus far and one must deal with the hand they have been dealt.

No, they don't want me. What they see is a conquest, a dangerous thrill. I girl shaped sack of poisenous skin, and while they pity it and want it, as far as they're concerned there is nothing underneath it. Not a personality with it's own wants, and beliefs and quirks. A person capable of thought and emotion.

They think they want me? They have no idea what it means to have me. The power thats inside of me. The thing that I am. They have no fucking idea.

Though something did cheer me up today, a little note exchange with John in English:

_'Looking good Roguey. And you've got legs! Nice ones too. Who knew? We all thought you were a disembodied __torso hovering above a pair of jeans.'_

_'Maybe I was, then I absorbed a chic with nice legs and spontaneously generated these.'_

_'Nope. You heard Professor fire crotch in third. Theres no such thing as spontaneous generation. __Everything comes from something.'_

_'Do my eyes deceive me? St. Jonathon Jacobs Allerdyce, you were paying attention in science! I'm telling EVERYBODY!'_

_'One word Roguey and all they'll find is your ashes.'_

_(snorts obnoxiously) 'Whatever Allerdyce. They wouldn't believe me anyway.'_

A conversation. A small gathering of words, short and insignificant. But it made me smile.


End file.
